


In Our Field Of Forget-Me-Nots

by Jay_Dayy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Depression, Flowers, Gay Love, Ghosts, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, M/M, Minor Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein, forget-me-nots, grieving Jean, lot of it, marco/jean - Freeform, very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-06 23:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10346556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_Dayy/pseuds/Jay_Dayy
Summary: Jean felt his blood run cold as he stared at the mutilated corpse of his companion, Marco Bott, with wide eyes. He didn't deserve this death, he died alone. Hopefully, it was quick, oh god, Jean prayed that Marco went quickly. He couldn't imagine his best friend writhing in pain, blood slowly pouring from his injuries, all alone, forgotten.He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes tight, trying his best to vanish from sight and go back to the old days of training. He missed goofing off with Marco, sneaking off in the middle of the night to go lay in the damp grass of the meadow to talk. Jean missed his friends when they were innocent. He missed everything. He missed his innocence, he missed Marco.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! First story ever, please enjoy! I am not a writer, so this'll be crap.
> 
> This is also inspired by BekkiiSeraphic, author of the story "The Stars Will Remain." Check it out if you like stars and Marco/Jean.

Everything must end, Jean knew that as a realist, nothing lasts forever. Nothing could escape it, eventually, he would die and hopefully leave the world a better place. Although Jean was a realistic man, for some queer reason he was blindsided by one of his closest friends death. Jean stared into the flames, his stomach churning at the scent of burning flesh as he looked around at the other cadets, who were either collapsed on the ground crying or just standing there, watching their friends mutilated corpses burn.

Jean silently walked forwards, closer to the flames and looked down. Little white pieces of bone lay in the dirt, gleaming from the light the inferno gave off. He kneeled and scooped them into his palm and looked down at them, his chest tightening as he realized this might be Marco's bones. "Sorry, Marco... I don't even know if this bone is yours." He murmured to the fragment of bone, his eyes filling with tears as he remembered finding Marco's body, abandoned, decomposing, it made his stomach churn and grumble just reliving that horrid memory in his mind. It haunted him, covering him like a shroud.

...

Jean walked through the rubble, his eyes watering as the stench of titan vomit and rotting corpses irritated them. It was just so strong, the rotting smell pungent enough for him to gag under the white bandana covering his mouth. Jean wiggled his fingers under the stiff leather gloves, his hands slimy with sweat as the brown leather heated up in the sun and began to cook his hands. He didn't know which one was worse, Killing titans or finding the bodies of people he knew and held close to his heart. It was quite the experience, just seeing how the titans would litter the corpses around like garbage, letting the flies and maggots feast on their decomposing flesh. Organs splattered the walls like paint and blood ran in the gutters like rain. Yes, quite the experience.

A corpse was to his left, slumped against the blood splattered wall. Jean turned his head and glanced at it, taking in how it was completely ripped in half, flaky dried blood stuck to the corpse's tan skin and splattered across its freckled face, the corpses chocolate brown eyes dull and lifeless, much like the eyes of a doll. Jean felt his heart leap into his throat as he realized that he knew this corpse, he knew the body very well, in fact. The body was a man Jean loved and respected, Marco Bott.

"H-Hey." Jean breathed, staring at Marco. He watched in horror as the flies flew all over him, crawling on his pale skin and into his wound, feasting off him. It was horrifying to see Marco like this, to see him as another corpse killed by those damn titans. "You're..." Jean couldn't think straight, there was no way this could be Marco. He couldn't believe it. Jean felt his eyes fill with tears as he kept staring at him, noticing those small details that made Marco... Well, Marco, like the wide scar on his hand from when they fell from a tree in the meadow, the stupidly neat way he combed his hair (despite Jean liking his bedhead much better), the freckles that splattered all over his face (and other parts of his body as well),. He could see the freckles through the soot, blood, and dirt.

Jean swallowed. "You're... Marco?" No, No, no way this was Marco. It can't be. Jean closed his eyes and tried to be somewhere else, anywhere else. He wanted to be in the meadows with Marco, letting Marco forcefully roll him down the hill and cover his uniform in grass stains, he wanted to be in the lunch hall with Marco, making fun of the thin gruel and bread they served them. He wanted to go home, back in his crappy cot with the thin sheets. He wanted to feel Marco sneak into the covers next to him and bury his face into the crook of his neck, he wanted to feel the frustration after they had an argument over something stupid. Of course, arguments didn't last long between the two and it usually ended in laughter. God, Jean would do anything to have Marco back.

...

Jean remembered the good times, like when they would sneak off at sunrise to go roam in the flower meadow west of the training grounds. It was their secret, no one else knew about the meadow, it was their hangout place. They would lay in the dewy grass, watching the sky turn from orange to blue as the sun rose over the horizon. They would sometimes talk, they would sometimes fool around, other times they would just sleep there, their bodies pressed together in the middle of the vivid blossoms.

"Jean?" Marco shifted next to him, Jean didn't open his eyes and Marco shook him to get his attention, "Hey, Jean?"

"Hmmmkf?" Jean grunted, cracking open one eye to see Marco kneeling next to his face, maiming a small blue flower. "Wha?" Jean shifted to put his head on Marco's lap. Marco smiled down at him before turning his focus back to the flower as he pulled the petals off one-by-one.

"...Nothing." Marco looked away. Jean wrinkled his brow, confused by the boy's behavior. It was unlike Marco, as he was a pretty open book. His face was expressive, along with his personality. Jean didn't know if he pitied Marco for it or envied him, but Jean had his own shortcomings, like his temper and his lack of tolerance for stupidity. Jean reached up to cup the boy's cheek, running his thumb over the sun kisses sprinkled all over his tan skin.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" Jean asked, Marco simply nodded and nibbled his bottom lip. Jean knew that the only way to get Marco to open up was by not pushing it. "What type of flower is that?" Marco perked up at that and began to gush on and on about forget-me-nots and how his village was filled with them. Jean didn't really care about flowers, but just seeing how Marco's face lit up made his chest tingle with happiness. He was just so cute when he was happy. Soon the conversation dulled and they just stared at each other, lost in their own thoughts, the silence was broken by a question that made Jean feel saddened.

"When I die, will you forget me?" Marco murmured, his eyes filled with anxiety. Jean was alarmed by this question and sat up suddenly to stare at him, perturbed. Marco noticed his expression and began to babble nervously, trying to explain his reasoning behind the question. Jean couldn't hear him over the pounding of his heart. Jean suddenly grabbed Marco's shoulders and pulled him into a tight embrace, trying his best to answer the question without making a fool out of himself.

"Marco, I promise. I'll remember you, no matter what." Jean muttered, gripping Marco as tightly as he could.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

They didn't let go of each other, as they left Marco had plucked another forget-me-not and handed it to Jean, who rolled his eyes and pretended not to care. Marco didn't know, but Jean had stolen one of Armin's big books and crushed the flower to preserve it. It was in his pocket at all times.

...

Jean looked down at the bone, his hands shaking as he brushed his thumb against it. Jean knew that Marco died fighting, but it didn't feel worth it. He mulled over his decision to join the Military Police and shuddered, Jean didn't want to die like Marco, he didn't want to face another titan for the rest of his life. But it was unfair to him. It was unfair Jean got to live and Marco had died all alone, probably in pain. God, Jean hoped it was quick and Marco didn't sit there, wondering if anyone would find him. Jean wasn't a suicidal maniac like Eren, but was this really suicide? Did Jean even have a chance in the Survey Corps?

Jean didn't look up, but he heard the scuffing of boots and he felt the air around the funeral change. He inhaled deeply and looked up to see Marco looking down at him, a smile on his face as he spoke.

"Jean, promise me you're not going to take this the wrong way-" Jean was freaking out mentally, his vision blurred and his breathing quickened. Was he going insane? Was he seeing spirits? Did ghosts really exist? Jean didn't know if he'd be happy or sad if Marco were haunting him from beyond the grave. "But you're not strong." Jean wasn't strong, he couldn't be strong. He wanted to be strong. For Marco. Jean had wanted to protect him and hold him close, he wanted to provide for Marco. "You're a good leader because you know what it's like to be weak."

Jean remembered how Marco said that. Jean first felt offended by the observation, glaring at him as he fueled up his gas tank. But Marco didn't hesitate, shadows casting over his face as he spoke. Jean narrowed his eyes at him and listened, thank god he did at the time. It kept him thinking, it made him feel less like human garbage for all the lives that were lost by his poor leadership skills.

"You're scared out of your mind, just like us, it keeps you alert, sympathetic, and a good leader, Jean." Jean blinked and Marco reached out and laid his warm hand on his, his palm covering the pieces of bone Jean cupped in his hand. Jean opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Marco had vanished, the only trace of them left was the little piece Jean was holding. He closed his hand and gripped the bone tight, tight enough to feel it poke into his skin. Jean breathed through clenched teeth, hissing as he shakily stood.

'What the hell am I going to do now without him?' Jean didn't realize how much he depended on Marco. Without him, he felt a hole in the middle of his chest, sucking out any emotions he had. He felt cold from the inside out. He was numb to the pain shooting through his hand as the bone was surprisingly sharp and it dug into his skin. Jean didn't know what to do. He had to make a decision sooner or later on which corp he's going in.

Jean was quivering slightly as he turned to look at his friends, his eyes wide like he had just seen a ghost. He knew what he had to do.

"Hey... Guys, have you decided yet... On where you're going to go?" His friends looked at his face and his trembling form in shock, why was he talking about that right now? They all seemed to think, looking at him grimly. The orange of the flames danced on his face, hiding the agony that stretched across it. "On which you're going to join? I've made my decision," Jean lifted the bone closer to his face and grabbed his wrist, his trembling growing strong and stronger as his breathing sped up, "I-I know it's going to be rough but- Dammit." Jean started to cry, closing his eyes as he exclaimed. "I'm joining the scouts!"

Everyone's eyes bore into his form as he sobbed loudly, he was ashamed of this behavior. But he couldn't help it. For a moment Jean swore he could feel ghostly hands on his shoulders, squeezing firmly as if they were trying to comfort him. It didn't help, all it did was make Jean cry harder. After the funeral, everyone went to their dorms and laid in bed, trying to fall asleep after the horrors they had witnessed. Not Jean.

Jean laid there and waited for the sun to begin to rise, he had a mission. He sat up slowly and tried to get out of the creaky bed without alerting the man sleeping above him. He grabbed his boots and left as silently as he could.

Jean walked in the cold air, his breath steaming as he ducked into the tree line, gripping the only piece of Marco that remained in his fist. He stepped into the meadow, the flowers and plants bathed in yellow-orange light as the sun began to rise. Jean sighed as he began his way through the flowers, feeling leaves and thorns tugging at his clothing as he walked to where Marco and Jean used to lay, in the small clearing in the middle of the field.

He stood in the clearing, kneeling down in the damp grass before he dug his fingers into the dirt and dug, tearing the grass apart as he dug a deep hole about the size of both of his hands. Jean's hands were numb from the cold dirt caking on them. Jean reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cloth pouch, gingerly opening it and putting the bone fragment and the dried flower in it.

Jean felt like he had to say something, anything. Jean opened his mouth to say something and began to cry, staring at the pouch in his dirt-stained hands. "Marco... I have no fucking clue what to say to you, I-if you're watching." He spoke to the silence, "I love you so much, okay? And when you're gone, it feels like someone tore a hole in me... And I-" His voice cracked as he dropped the bag into the grave and began to cover it up with the soft earth.

Jean closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to where Marco was buried, whispering nonsense until exhaustion (both mental and physical) hit him like a rock. Before Jean knew it, he was out cold.

...

Jean was sitting in the tree, waiting for Marco to show up. Marco stood far away and waved to Jean. Jean was confused, but of course, waved back. Marco beckoned for him and he climbed down and began to walk towards him through the flowers and grass. The branches and thorns dug into Jean's legs and calves, holding him back. He fought against them, but they were yanking him away from Marco.

"Marco!" Jean yelled, reaching out. Marco took a step forward, his eyes filled with sadness as he cried out for Jean. Jean blinked and Marco had shifted from his normal appearance to his corpse; half eaten with flies buzzing around him. Jean yelled in horror at the transformation. Marco walked closer and Jean tried to escape. He didn't want this. He didn't want the corpse to come any closer. Marco grabbed him with his remaining hand and tried to speak, his words coming out in wispy mumbles as blood trickled down his missing side like water would trickle in a stream. It was a neverending river of blood.

"Jean, I'm okay." Marco tugged him closer, his only eye filled with remorse as he gurgled in his own lifeforce, "I'm sorry, Jean." Jean shook his head and looked away, trembling as Marco's freezing hand grabbed his chin and forced Jean to look at him. "I'm dead, I'm gone, but look," Forget-me-nots grew from his wounds, covering him like a shroud; making him a work of art. "I love you, Jean. Never forget that." He pressed his forehead against Jean's, "Don't forget me, Jean, and hopefully I don't see you for a long time."

"Marco, please, I don't want to leave you." Jean shuddered as Marco pressed what was left of his lips on his cheek. "I miss you so fucking much, Marco, I wanted to protect you. I'm a failure of a man." Marco's grip tightened and Jean looked into his remaining eye and spoke to him gently, like if he said the wrong thing, Jean would crumble.

"None of this was your fault, Jean, it's time for you to go. I love you." Jean tried to speak, but he was shaking too much, it wasn't just a tremble, but a full-on body shake. The thorns pulled him back from Marco and dragged him away. "Live for me, Jean. Please, don't come back here until you're ready." A tear trickled from Marco's remaining eye as the flowers growing from his wounds began to wilt, raining down petals. Marco was disappearing.

"Marco! No! Take me with you!" He shouted, reaching out for his true love as tears began trickling down his face. He was pulled further and further from Marco, who waved sadly at him. Jean was tugged to the ground by the thorns and thrush as they covered him, swallowing him, making him sink deeper into the dirt and burying him alive. Jean knew that he couldn't stay with Marco, he had to live, Jean would survive.

...

"Jean! Jean, wake up!" Jean was being shaken by someone. He groaned and their unrelenting shaking didn't stop. "Jean, are you alright?" Jean slowly sat up and looked up to see Armin hovering over him, ocean-blue eyes full of worry. Jean rubbed his eyes and blinked rapidly, but Armin didn't disappear like Marco did at the funeral.

"Armin? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same for you, Jean." Armin's voice was gentle and Jean knew that Armin might've witnessed the grave-digging by the pity in his expression. Jean grumbled under his breath as he climbed to his feet.

"I look a mess," Jean muttered, running a hand through his hair. Armin shook his head with a sad smile on his peach lips. Jean felt something brush against his ear and he pulled it to see it was the same flower he had buried. There was no evidence of him digging up the grave, leaving the question on how did it get here? "Armin, they're gonna kick our asses if we're late." Jean cursed.

Jean gripped the flower in his palm as they went back to the dormitory. He knew that he had to fight for Marco, Jean would join the scouts to survive, he would live on for Marco because Jean knew that he was watching. Jean felt his chest swell with fear and determination as he mentally prepared to take on hordes of titans, relying on people he knew and loved. He looked at Armin, who was staring right ahead with different emotions flickering across his face. He noticed Jean staring and glanced at him before his face turned rosy pink with slight embarrassment.

"I miss him too, Jean." Armin murmured. Jean simply nodded, his face solemn as he spoke.

"Yeah, but he's still here," Jean said, looking down at the flower. Armin looked shocked. Jean was known as the realistic one. No one expected him to believe in the occult. Jean noticed his expression and chuckled, "Look around, Armin," It was a beautiful day out. The leaves on the trees were emerald green, the dirt under their feet a deep brown, and the sky clear and bright blue. "Marco's here." Marco was the sunny days where all the birds are singing, Marco was still here through those grey days where the rain was unrelenting, Marco was still here through the random acts of kindness they witness, Marco was the flowers in the meadow, in their meadow of forget-me-nots.

Marco lived through Jean, and the other soldiers sworn to help end the titans.


End file.
